Hurt
by Madame aZure
Summary: M-21 has to take care of a broken Takeo who was assaulted by a group of mercenaries.


**Title:** Hurt

 **Writer:** Madame aZure

 **Fandom:** Noblesse;

 **Pairing:** M-21/Takeo;

 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort;

 **Rating:** M;

 **Warnings:** this fanfiction contains foul language, violence, blood, rape. Read at your own risk.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Noblesse or any of the characters. No trademark infringement or profit is meant from the writing of this fanfiction.

* * *

He had this ominous feeling he couldn't shake: from their first encounter with the mercenary team, he knew something was wrong. Well, besides the fact that he and Takeo had to take on a four men mercenary team hired by some Union bastard. There was something unsettling in the way they leered at the sniper, the way they taunted him, the way they sought to injure him in battle not to kill him. M-21's protective nature flared up, laced with little bits of possessiveness as his werewolf side saw Takeo as part of his pack. Working together as a team, they managed to force them to flee. Which was something that bothered him: they only fled, they weren't dead. They would surely come back and he had to be ready for them.

A few uneventful weeks passed since then so he stopped thinking about it, the incident fading from his awareness. Yet, the foreboding sensation still bugged him sometimes.

When Takeo did not return home after seeing the kids to their houses, he could feel his heart drop into his stomach. He told the household members about his ominous hunch, and while they didn't dismissed it, they decided it was best not to jump to conclusions. After Tao couldn't get a hold of the sniper on the phone, let alone pinpoint his GPS location, everyone split into teams to search for him. The hacker was relentlessly trying to figure out who captured Takeo and why, but most importantly, where did they took him. He directed the household members to different suspicious locations, but he worked blindly as he had no info basis on which to support his search.

M-21 tried to warn him again about the hunch he had, but Tao was a person who relied on cold, hard logic not on instinctual hints. While sometimes Tao was an annoying prick, losing his former comrade made him act like a fucking cactus, stinging anyone who disagreed with his perfect logic. M had to hand it to the hacker, as he a damn good strategist and an even better information gatherer, but his attitude pissed him off greatly. M-21 decided it was best for him to move alone this time. He disabled his phone and tracking device so Tao would stop bugging him and got going. The people who took Takeo were mercenaries much like those he encountered while he was still working for the Union. He used to work with that kind of people, he knew what made them tick and how they handled their missions. But most importantly, he knew the criteria based on which they chose the places they temporary used as bases of operation. He had some locations in mind that fell nicely into the description, but if he was willing to gamble on instinct this time, he might as well let it decide which one he should check first. He closed his eyes and mentally reviewed the locations' list, choosing the one that made his instinct buzz.

As soon as he reached the building, he knew he was right, a broken scream freezing the blood in his veins. He rushed to the source and got to a wide room in the center of the building. Shattered beer bottles were scattered on the floor along with cigarette buds, used syringes, pills, and drugs bottles, cigarette smoke clouding the air. In the middle of the room he saw the four of them: three were watching the show, drinking and smoking while the fourth pounded into Takeo like an animal, holding him down, pressing his face into the concrete. Takeo had his wrists bound together by cuffs, the metal cutting the skin where they met due to the constant friction. His white skin was stained with wounds. Deep knife cuts still trickled blood, meaning that they were freshly made. Patches of skin were marked by dark purple bruises, some with irregular shapes, some in the shape of a hand – two such handprints found their way on the sniper's neck as proof that they attempted to strangle him. Cigarette burns completed the horrifying picture, the charred tissue sure to leave a scar. He had strands of hair randomly cut at different lengths, as if they did it to mock him for his gorgeous locks. The sniper was crying, tears running down his face, as pained expression twisted his features. His lips were red, smeared with blood, which seeped from a cut on his lower lip. His cries mixed pleas muttered from time to time, but his begging fell upon deaf ears as they laughed at him. They were laughing, amusing themselves by hurting him, torturing him, raping him.

They.

Were.

Laughing.

M-21 saw red.

They've somehow managed to notice the werewolf's presence despite their drunken-drugged state, tentatively getting on guard. Unfortunately for them, this wasn't their lucky day, as M-21, renowned for his volcanic temper, had officially lost it. He attacked them with a ferocity worthy of a werewolf. They didn't even know what hit them and were unable to defend themselves as they discarded their weaponry near a wall, since it interfered with their little show. They tried to reach their weapons and arm themselves, but 21 was faster, stronger and angrier. Since his Awakening, all he wanted was control over his damn werewolf instincts, but tonight, he decided to let the beast that resided inside his mind roam free. He barred his teeth, feeling the beast growl and moved as it told him to. His claws severed body parts, hacked flesh, crushed bones, spilled blood, eliciting horrified screams from his victims.

He let the bastard who raped Takeo last. He pinned him down, one foot on his face, applying enough force to keep him there, and the other on his right arm. Then he reached down and grabbed the forearm, pulling it torturously slow while his foot kept the arm in place. He snarled in satisfaction hearing the muscles tear, joints pop, bone crack as it began to fracture under the pulling force. But what really entertained M-21 was that bastard's screams as he ripped the dirty hands that dared to touch his friend. He would have continued like this for hours, but something in his mind clicked and he remembered that Takeo was hurt and needed assistance as soon as possible. He would rather help him than take revenge on this worthless bag of organs.

He looked down at the bastard, growling a fleeting 'I'll see you in hell!' before he crushed his skull with his foot, his brain matter splattering on the ground with a sickening sound.

M-21 rushed to his friend's side, who was lying on one side, silently crying. He used his claws to crush the metal cuffs on his wrists, freeing him, before transforming back. He took off his coat (thank god he's decided to take one of his long coats today), draping it over the sniper's shoulders, as he helped him into a sitting position.

"M, I –" Takeo began but his voice died in his throat, big tears rolling down his already tear stained cheeks.

The werewolf looked at him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. He felt Takeo tense for a second, then leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. He started sobbing miserably, his body shaking with each convulsive gasp. With a hand M-21 tried to calm him, rubbing comforting circles on his back and the other reached to his earpiece, calling Tao.

"M, where the hell are you? I've tried to get a hold of you for hours –" Tao began, ready to give 21 a piece of his mind.

"Shut the fuck up." M-21 snapped back, the cold rage in his voice making Tao stop his babbling. "I've found Takeo. Send Frankenstein home and get KSA to send a cleaning team to my current location. Now." he ordered, each word that passed through his lips slashed the air like a knife.

"Ok," was the only response he's got before Tao hanged up.

"M?" Takeo asked in a quiet voice, sniffing.

"Let's get you back home," M-21 answered him, his tone suddenly changing, speaking calmly and kindly. He wrapped an arm under Takeo's knees and the other behind his back, lifting him up then rushing home.

Unfortunately, he got home before any of the household members did. Damn! He wanted Frankenstein to take a look at the Takeo's wounds. He gently placed the sniper on the couch going to retrieve a first-aid kit. He quickly returned with a white box that had a green cross on cover. He put it on the coffee table, opening it and taking several items from it, when a shaky hand touched his arm making him turn his attention to the sniper.

"I want to take a shower first," Takeo said, looking at him pleadingly.

"Ok," M-21 agreed. He rushed upstairs into the bathroom, filled the bathtub with warm water, then came back into the living room. He went to Takeo's side and took him into his arms, then went back into the bathroom. He put him on the edge of the tub and attempted to undress the sniper of his coat, only to have his hands slapped away. Takeo was trembling, gaze dropped, gripping the coat like it was his last lifeline.

"Don't… please," he whispered. "I can do it alone," he continued. M-21 looked at him for a second, pondering how should he approach this problem. There was no doubt he couldn't handle this, given his current state, but M-21 would never force himself on anyone, even if it was for a good cause. He had to convince the sniper to accept his help, not because he was being constrained to, but because he wanted to.

"Takeo," he called his name, but the sniper didn't look at him. "Takeo, please look at me," he pleaded again, this time making the other gaze in his direction. "Do you trust me?" he asked, softening his expression.

"Of course," Takeo immediately gave him his answer.

"Then you know that I would never do anything to hurt you. Please, let me help." M reasoned with him, patiently waiting for the other to give him the cue to continue. Takeo looked him straight in his eyes, as if searching for something, then nodded. M-21 sighed and proceeded to remove the coat, frowning at the wounds scattered on his skin. He tried to suppress the rage spark that threatened to start a fire inside his mind – he had other priorities right now. He helped the other get in the bathtub, gritting his teeth in anger as he heard the other hiss when the water touched his wounds. He let Takeo get used to the sensation, and after rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, he took a soft sponge from a nearby shelf. Soaking it in water, he gently washed the blood and the dirt away. He really didn't like how Takeo flinched every time he touched him. It could have been a reaction to his wounds being stirred, but by M-21's assessment, they weren't really deep or life threatening. They were intended to hurt him, not kill him, and the sniper had been hurt much worse before. He had a feeling that it was rather the emotional impact this incident had on him than the physical one. Being touched by another person made him remember what he's just been through, what they made him do. Takeo seemed to mentally prepare himself each time M-21 was about to touch him, but even so he flinched when he did.

One could argue that, being part of DA-5, the sniper was supposed to be already used to this kind of things. However, DA-5 was originally an assault team: they had to deal with taking out direct Union threats, wiping out enemy bases, killing treacherous scientists, unlike the M series, who had experience both in combat and in other… affairs. Being the lowest of the low, the M series had to do whatever it took to stay alive. They were forged in the flames of horrible experiments, torture and abuse. The things they went through would put hell's punishment to shame and make Satan cower in a corner. Though suffering, they learnt that the most successful method of survival was using every underhanded means they knew: lie, cheat, steal, blackmail, kidnap, torture and even sex. M was used to these things, his history with the Union numbing his reaction to it – as sick as it sounds, it almost felt natural for him, even if it didn't make it right to use such methods. Survival in the organization wasn't about doing right or wrong, it wasn't about being the strongest – it was about being the most resourceful.

While washing Takeo, a similar scene flashed into M-21's mind. Back at the Union, something like this happened to one of his comrades. M-47 was, just like Takeo, a pretty one – his looks got the unwanted attention of some scientists, who brutally had their way with him. At the time, they couldn't disobey the scientists, as they held their insignificant lives in the palm of their hands. One wrong move and they'd all be ripped apart and used for spare parts. They couldn't even fathom the idea of obtaining retribution for what happened to M-47. When he and his comrades found M-47 drugged and raped, they almost attacked the scientists, blinded by anger. Thankfully, M-63, who was something along the lines of a leader, calmed them down explaining how this empty rage would only lead to their destruction, since they held no power there. The only thing they could do was help M-47. M-21 remembered M-63 taking care of his wounded comrade, tending to his injuries, making sure he ate properly by giving him his own share of food, volunteering to take his place in experiments. Even if all the things 63 did were worthy of recognition, one thing struck a chord in M-21: M-63 sung a lullaby to M-47 each night to calm him down and chase away the nightmares which came from the traumas that plagued their lives. He didn't stop after M-47 healed. He didn't stop after M-47 died. He stopped when he himself lost his own life.

M-21 remembered how his comrade's tranquil voice seemed to melt the harsh reality away. How it enter right into his heart, into his mind, into his soul, calming him. Maybe he could do something of the kind for Takeo. There was no harm in trying. He took a deep breath, mustering his courage, then started singing, his warm voice echoing in the bathroom. Takeo looked at him astonished to hear him, but made no commentary. Unknowingly, his lips curled into a shy smile, relaxing into M-21's touch. The tenseness slowly disappeared, not flinching as often as he used to. He closed his eyes and tilting his head back, listening to the lyrics. The words seemed to curl around the melody, blending into a perfect composition that danced though the air, brought to life by M-21's melodious voice.

 _"So just give it one more try to a lullaby  
And turn this up on the radio  
If you can hear me now  
I'm reaching out  
To let you know that you're not alone  
And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell  
'Cause I can't get you on the telephone  
So just close your eyes  
Oh, honey here comes a lullaby  
Your very own lullaby."_

"You have a beautiful voice," Takeo complimented him, smiling sadly, when M finished singing. "If Tao finds out, he'll make fun of you, you know?"

"I can live with that," he retorted. After all, he had to make it up to the hacker. If making fun of him because he could sing made Tao happier, then he'd gladly let him find out.

Seeing as the water got colder and that he finished washing him, M-21 helped Takeo stand up, wrapping a fluffy towel around him. He took him to his room and placed him on the bed. He quickly went downstairs to fetch the first aid kit. Returning to the room, he put the box on the bed, then went to the closet, picking out something for the sniper to wear: a comfy long-sleeved top, a pair of sweat pants and underwear. He treated the sniper's wounds at the best of his capabilities, before helping him dress.

"Thank you," Takeo said as M-21 put the towel and first aid kit away. "I-I'll try to get some rest now," he continued, giving him the hint that he should leave him alone for a while.

M-21 looked at his comrade. Fragile, vulnerable, hurt. Like hell he was going to leave him when he needed someone the most.

"Move over," M said, rolling down his sleeves and opening the top buttons of his shirt.

"M?" Takeo asked confused. The werewolf climbed into the bed, settling by the sniper's side, covering them both with the blanket. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him to his chest. Takeo tensed for a few seconds, but seeing as M-21 didn't do anything else, he allowed himself to relax, letting his head rest on the crook of the werewolf's neck, grasping the white shirt into his fists. M-21 moved his hands up and down the sniper's back in a comforting way, resting his chin on the crown of his head.

"You don't have to do this. I-I can manage on my own" the sniper whispered.

"I know," he answered. "But you're not alone, so you don't need to face it on your own."

Takeo seemed to reflect over the words for a while.

"Can you sing again? " Takeo asked, hoping that his voice didn't gave away that tears started blurring his sight again.

M-21 didn't answer, content to simply starting to sing again. Takeo's eyes faltered tired, basking in M's warmth as the song slowly lulled him to sleep.

After a several minutes, the door carefully opened to reveal Frankenstein and Tao looking worried. Their brows shot up in surprise seeing M-21 holding a sleeping Takeo in his embrace. They came closer to the bed, taking a look at the sniper. Frankenstein moved his lips slowly, mouthing words so M could read them.

"Is he hurt?" he asked, assessing the wounds that were visible despite Takeo being snugly nestled in M-21's arms and covered by the blanket.

"He is. Not life-threatening. I took care of the wounds." M-21 answered in the same way, making sure not to disturb Takeo's sleep

"How is he?" Tao asked, his expression underlying what he really meant.

"Bad. Needs rest."

"The mercenaries?" Frankenstein continued, his dark aura flashing menacingly.

"Dead," the werewolf answered, barring his teeth in disgust.

"Good," was the reply. The house owner seemed pleased by it, his eyes darkening.

Although they tried to be as silent as possible, Takeo stirred in his sleep, probably sensing their presence. He didn't wake up, he just frowned and whimpered brokenly, pressing against M-21's chest.

"Go. He needs sleep." M-21 said, bringing Takeo closer to him, as the physical contact seem to calm the sniper. He looked at Tao and muttered an apology: "Sorry."

"It's ok," Tao smiled in understanding.

"Have a good sleep! Call us if you need anything," Frankenstein said and they quietly left the room.

M-21 waited for them to close the door, then closed his eyes, letting Takeo's steady breathing lull him to sleep.

THE END :)


End file.
